


The Precipice_Him

by I_Missy_Moo



Series: The Precipice [1]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Missy_Moo/pseuds/I_Missy_Moo
Summary: Precipice (n)•	‘A precarious position’•	‘The brink of a disastrous situation’The dangerous moment…from his perspective.  (Spoiler from S02E10)





	

He was a man whose thoughts were difficult to read. He kept his emotions on a tight rein. His wife had often noted that he struggled to discuss matters of the heart. But at this time…at this particular moment, his feelings were plainly visible. He had been blindsided and was feeling utterly powerless. The storm on the outside of their house was nothing compared to the storm that was raging right here in front of him. With three words he realised his world was collapsing…

‘I’m taking Jeremy.’ She stated. Clearly. Calmly. Without a trace of emotion!

He felt his knees would surely buckle at that particular moment. God must surely be laughing at him from above at his hubris… he _thought_ he knew her so well. She loved him, she idolised him…she would _always_ be by his side…or so he had arrogantly thought. Until… she uttered those three devastating words! Was it the words themselves or her look of determination that frightened him the most? She meant this. She was leaving him. Tonight. Now! His life…his future…his happiness now balanced on a precipice. If he didn’t do something, say something…anything… she was about to leave him. The love of his life was going to walk out the door and out of his life.

‘I came back for you,’ he implored.

Even as the words left his mouth he knew they were not the words that she needed. He heard the disbelief in his own tone! And he saw her bristle. She was prepared for this and had the advantage over him…coming at him with a verbal onslaught. He was struggling to keep up with her tirade… struggling to think clearly. In his panic, his words failed him. He tried to interject… but to no avail.

Her words were coming at him thick and fast and he couldn’t grasp what she was saying….What did she mean she wasn’t a great lady? God… didn’t she know she was the very best of _any_ women he knew…had ever known? Thoughts raced through his mind; she _had_ raised herself up from the gutter, she _had_ gained the respect of the gentry, the miners: all of those she came across: Dwight, Captain McNeil, Sir Hugh. God even Frances had been a little in love with her before he had died… And she was so beautiful. Uniquely beautiful. She _always_ stood out from any other woman in a room. She was no ‘cold’ English woman, she was all fire, passion and…. Love. Ironically she had never been more beautiful than this particular moment, fierce, eyes flashing and her hair seemingly ablaze in the candlelight…What did she mean she wasn’t a great lady?

He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts…She was talking too fast, she was so angry she was shaking with her pain. What did she mean second best? His confusion was evident. She thought…she thought _she_ was second best?

Dumbfounded he asked ‘Why would you be?’

‘Because you love Elizabeth, you will always love Elizabeth….

The shadow that had always hovered over their marriage was named. Elizabeth. He was subconsciously aware that she had always felt inferior to Elizabeth and in the back of her mind worried that one day he would turn his back on her and return to his first love. And he had. In a moment of weakness he had made the biggest mistake of his life. He had given his wife’s fears substance. God he was a fool.

‘Do you deny it?’ She demanded.

He tried to explain the unexplainable. But…as the words tumbled out of his mouth, she was already slowly shaking her head. He tried to justify to her that he had been in love with the notion. He understood that now, he now needed her to understand. He had not been in love with Elizabeth for a very long time… just the idea of a perfect first love.

He glanced up… in time to see her crestfallen expression.

‘Where as I am dull, imperfect and ordinary…’ She turned, picked up her case and moved towards the door.

It was happening. She was leaving. He had lost…everything. He was close to tears and a lump formed in his throat.

‘Imperfect.’ He blurted out. ‘Real.’

She paused and turned slowly. Wary. Tears welling in her eyes as she gently placed her bag down at her feet. God help him, he was responsible for the pain that was clearly etched across her face. With as much feeling as he could portray he set about letting her know how important she was to him. She was his everything…he had to make her understand. His voice trembled as he pledged his deep and abiding love to her.

‘Stay.’ He whispered. ‘Please.’

The immediate need to flee seemed to leave her. She stood, barely breathing.

He wasn’t game to touch her yet…he was afraid she would still shrink from his touch. But at least…for now…she was still here. Without a word she slowly nodded her head. He tentatively reached for her bag and noted his hands were still trembling.

He took a deep, calming breath.

He had avoided the precipice….for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I only borrowed these characters for a moment… A little poetic licence taken in places, please forgive me Winston.


End file.
